


on this side my hand, on that side thine

by thinkofaugust



Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Diplomatic Negotiations, I don't know what their relationship is and neither do they, M/M, Romantic Fluff, What is New?, basically involves sniping at each other and kisses?, fluff ending, grumpy kisses, hey there's kisses that's new, i mean as romantic as these two get, it's as close to a negotiation as these two can get, louis is dramatic, well kinda, william is grumpy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 02:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13044159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkofaugust/pseuds/thinkofaugust
Summary: " ‘You are sulking again, William. It is most unbecoming.’‘I am not.’‘You are. Shall I fetch you a looking glass? You can see for yourself-’‘Forget that,’ William said, his tone suddenly sharp again. "1672. The Palace of Versailles. Louis and William are negotiating. Or attempting to, at least. Things would be far more successful if William could control his emotions. Or perhaps they should both just admit that, sometimes, actions speak louder than words. Especially if that action is kissing?





	on this side my hand, on that side thine

**Author's Note:**

> The lovely Vera_dAuriac kindly sent me a tumblr prompt and, as per usual, it ran away from me. There's nothing really much more to say here other than this is just an excuse to make these two bicker until they kiss? The title comes from Act IV, Scene I of Shakespeare's 'Richard II' - because I'm incapable of writing these two without titling it something from an early modern play?
> 
> A few quick points for clarity:
> 
> \- There are 12 years between Louis and William.
> 
> \- There are, of course, more female monarchs than the ones William alludes to, but in this case he is talking about Queen Mary I of England, Queen Elizabeth I of England and Queen Christina of Sweden. (who are all super cool, just saying, if you haven't seen 'The Girl King' - watch it!)
> 
> \- Also, if anyone can figure out the layout of this room, do tell me. Because I have no idea. 
> 
> \- This could be set in the same universe as 'non norunt, haec monumenta mori', probably a few months later. For context, the first episode of Season 2 was set in 1671. And I have no idea if this can even pass as historically accurate in terms of the dating....but you didn't come here for my (sub-par) knowledge of early modern France, did you? No!
> 
> Enjoy x
> 
> \- x -

  1. _King Louis’s Bedchambers. The Palace of Versailles._



‘ Maastricht.’

The corners of William’s mouth twitched. He did not quite manage a smile, but was not quite austere enough to resist temptation. It was a gesture Louis knew all too well; he had seen it on his mother’s face as a child, and his own in the mirror. It was not so different on William’s.

‘We have been over this already,’ William said a little amusedly. ‘At least a dozen times, in fact.’

‘And, yet, I am still unsatisfied.’

‘Aren’t you always?’

Louis suppressed a smile of his own. To smile would be to show emotion; that, in itself, was defeat. He would be breaking his sacred rules of diplomacy, and that was as good as a surrender in this war.

‘I want Maastricht,’ he repeated. ‘And I will fight for it until you give it to me...or until you drop down dead and my army takes it from under your rotting corpse. I do not mind which.’

William hummed lowly. It was a habit of his, Louis had come to realise. A quirk, of sorts. His way of acknowledging that he had heard what someone had said - and perhaps had even turned over potential answers in his mind - but did not consider himself committed to reply. Between Louis’s sighs and Wiliam’s hums, the two of them could have a heated debate without uttering a word.

But tonight was not the night for such limitations. Louis’s mind was restless, driven to tedium by the sheer incompetence of some of his ministers, and he was itching for a release, a battle of words, and of wits. He pressed the point further.

‘It is your choice.’

William sighed. ‘A monarch cannot just give away land as he pleases. He, or she, I may add, if we account for the English and the Swedish in the past, has a...duty of care to their subjects. There are people who live there, with families, and livestock, and-’

‘Do not presume to tell me what a monarch can and cannot do,’ Louis interrupted flatly. ‘I have been trained for this role since birth, decades before the possibility of being  _ stadtholder  _ had even entered your mind.’

‘True,’ William admitted, shrugging. ‘In fact, it must have been at least a decade before the possibility of my  _ existence _ had entered  _ my mother’s _ mind.’

Louis frowned. Had William just called him  _ old? _ There was, of course, a number of years between them, but Louis was not _ old _ in any sense of the word. Far from it.

‘For a monarch, you are incredibly juvenile. I pity your people.’ He replied.

‘And you are incredibly stubborn. I pity your wife.’

Louis could not help but smirk at that. The reaction was so instinctual, so against his will, that it left him momentarily startled. There was very little that was more startling than being genuinely amused by one’s enemy - he supposed it was akin to God chuckling at Satan’s antics, or Judas prompting a smile from the suffering Christ - but if William had noticed, he did not let it show.

Instead, William stretched his legs out in front of him, steadying himself with his hands, and then corrected his posture again. As custom decreed it, Louis had offered him a chair with arms, but William - most likely only because Louis had offered - was adamant that he take the stool. It meant that there was a noticeable distance - in space and in status - between their two seats, but Louis had bitten his tongue, lest he started an argument, and caused his guards to come running in fear of their monarchs life. It had been difficult enough to convince his ministers to leave the two of them alone together as it was. But to defy their king was to defy God, and Louis was not sure which his ministers feared more.

They had seen reason in the end. Even Bontemps had left. After all, he and William always conducted their negotiations in isolation, separated from outside distractions. For that was what this was. A negotiation. One of many they had engaged in during the three weeks William had been in France. His men were camped somewhere in the forests surrounding the Palace. William had not said where, so Louis pretended not to know. They both knew he did. There were many things, Louis was also beginning to realise, that went unsaid between them - unsaid, but not misunderstood. 

Still, he hoped the stool was as uncomfortable as he had always imagined it to be.

Louis sighed and tried to turn the conversation back to the matter at hand. They had achieved too little in their time together; secretly, Louis was beginning to wonder if these discussions were about their countries at all. There was, he admitted to himself a little uncertainty, a possibility that all of this was an artifice, an excuse to enjoy the company of someone who was as close to an equal as either of them would ever find.  _ Enjoy _ was the wrong word. A dangerous word. Louis was not supposed to enjoy anything about William other than his eventual, and inevitable, demise. And yet...

He cleared his throat. ‘Now, about Maastricht.’

‘I am not giving it to you.’ William answered firmly. 

‘Not without reason, no. Or without temptation,’ he said and sat back in his chair. Just because he could and William couldn’t. ‘You wanted to negotiate-’

‘Not on that.’

Louis ignored him, suddenly serious. ‘Let us negotiate, then. You were right. We have a...what did you call it? A duty of care to our subjects. No man knows that better than I. It is time we acted on it.’

The corners of William’s lips twitched again, forming a frown this time. Louis expected another low hum - another non-answer that told him all he needed to know -  but instead, William muttered, ‘I have been.’

‘Try harder.’ 

He did hum at that. He was more than happy to give it out, glancing at Louis haughtily from the corner of his eye, but William hated receiving advice on how to govern his country. Louis suspected it was an old grudge, stemming from his time with De Witt. What William, being so new to ruling, had failed to realise, however, was that all monarchs had a De Witt, in one form or another. For Louis, he was the noblemen of France, and the ministers that worked alongside his mother. But, one by one, he had beaten them into submission. Not with weapons - he reserved them for the battlefield, for William - but with rules, and with bargains. And William would have to do the same, starting now. 

‘I propose a trade,’ Louis continued. ‘money for land.’

‘I do not need money.’

‘Of course, you do. You are fighting a war.’

William shifted on the stool, squaring his shoulders. ‘As are you. I’m surprised you have money to give.’

Louis inclined his head at him. ‘And I’m surprised you are so reluctant to bargain with me. It is why you are here, is it not?’ 

William stared at him for a long moment, expression neutral, lest he give away the thoughts Louis could more than likely already guess. They were not often that unlike his own. Then William stood and strode across the room with an agitated sigh. ‘What you suggest...is not possible.’

‘Not possible? Or you are not willing?’

‘Not possible,’ William repeated, coming to a stop in front of the fireplace. It wasn’t lit, on account of the raging summer heat, but William held his hands up to it habitually anyway. ‘I cannot give it to...I cannot give you a town for money.’

Louis looked up at him  ‘Why not? It would hardly be the first time such a transaction has taken place.  Fathers trade their daughters for coin, and with coin, every day. Why should land be any different? It does not, unlike a daughter, have whims of its own.’

‘It has people. Those people have whims.'

‘Those people are ruled by you. They do not adhere to any whim but your own.’

William did not reply. Not even a hum. Louis inclined his head again, suddenly curious, and a little amused.

‘Ah, I see, do you think such a trade would be...morally dubious?’ he asked, perhaps more teasingly than proprietary should have allowed. He could not help himself. William was, after all, his enemy; to taunt him was one of Louis’s whims.  ‘Are you worried about your immortal soul? Let me assure you-’

William’s frown deepened. ‘I need no assurance from you, Louis.’

To his own surprise, Louis startled again, unsettled by the harshness of his tone - which had been mostly absent from their discussions until now - and by the use of his name - which, despite the familiarity of some of their conversations, had rarely been used. His amusement faded. 

William kept his gaze on the empty fireplace. ‘You do not want to pay me for Maastricht. You want me to surrender it, and I will not. Nor will I let you bribe me.’

‘It is not a bribe. It is a trade.’

‘Not a fair one,’ William said. ‘I have already told you I do not want your money.’

Louis sat forward. ‘What do you want then, William?’

William turned to look at him then, a look of agitation still in his eyes. And perhaps, Louis thought, a little surprise. ‘What do  _ I _ want?’

‘Yes. That is how a negotiation works, is it not? I offer something you want in return for something I want? You do not want my money. Fine. Ask for something else.’

William blinked back at him.

Louis leant against one of the chair arms. William was studying him intensely, clearly trying to decipher if Louis was being serious or not. He was. That did not mean he was not enjoying it. After all, this was what he was  _ supposed  _ to enjoy about his conversations with William. The bargaining. The winning.

‘Sometime today would be preferable, William. Before I lose interest.’

‘In Maastricht or in my company?’ William asked lightly, then pressed his lips together, brow furrowing in thought. A moment passed. He smiled. ‘Rouen. Give me Rouen and  I’ll give you Maastricht.’

‘Rouen?’ Louis echoed, sitting forward again.

William nodded. 

‘No.’

Irritation flickered across William’s face again. He suppressed it. ‘Why not?’

He shrugged. ‘As you said, it is not possible. It is not a fair trade.’

‘You asked-’

‘I asked you to make an offer. I did not say I would accept.’

‘But-’

‘No. Besides, how do I know you would keep your word and not just take Rouen for yourself?’

‘How do I know you would not do the same with Maastricht?’

‘I suppose you would just have to trust me,’ Louis replied with a teasing quirk of his eyebrows. ‘Would you not?’

William frowned. ‘I do not.’ 

‘And yet, here you are.’

Another hum. Another statement William did not consider himself bound to answer. He wanted to, however, Louis could see it written all over his face. His frown deepened again, irritation turning his expression sour. He did not like being denied. Perhaps now he would understand how Louis felt, though Louis doubted he would admit it, even if he did. It was no matter. William had lost the moment he had shown anger. Even after all this time, he was not as skilled at diplomacy as Louis.

Amused, Louis smiled up at him.

William huffed an unimpressed sigh, folded his hands behind his back and crossed over to the chair next to Louis.  _ The chair with arms. _ Bontemps had pulled it over before he left, aligning the two chairs side by side, but leaving a respectable - a hesitant - distance between them. William sank heavily into the vacant chair, causing it to shift across the floor, and the edge of the left arm to collide with the right arm of Louis’s.

Louis glanced down at it. William followed his gaze, then met Louis’s eye and held it for a moment, unapologetic, but said nothing. He sighed again, forehead creasing in that way Louis was certain William’s mother and mistresses - if William had them, they had never discussed it -  must have thought was adorable. It was adorable, he supposed. If you were a mother. Or a mistress. Louis was neither. Louis was his rival. He should act as such.

‘You are being juvenile again.’ Louis said, his tone unexpectedly fond. The kind of tone he used when Philippe had done something that was irritating but so incredibly charming that he could not help but smile. _Too fond._ _Dangerously fond._ Louis shook himself and leant back in his chair again.

William did not seem to have noticed. He rolled his eyes and stubbornly folded his arms across his chest. ‘Says you.’

Louis shrugged. ‘I am not the one pouting like a petulant child who cannot have his own way.’

‘You are the one who told me to…’ He trailed off, flushing with anger and embarrassment.

Louis raised his eyebrows. The seconds ticked by.

‘You will be pouting when I refuse to give you Maastricht again.’ William continued. That was probably true. They both knew how petty Louis could be when prompted; it was another unspoken truth between them.

It was such a ridiculous argument, but Louis could not resist the temptation. ‘I think you mean to say that  _ your  _ foul mood will only increase when I take Maastricht from you.’ 

‘I would like to see you try.’ Anger flashed in his eyes again, and while Louis knew he should probably be afraid, or at least wary, he only felt amusement. 

‘Ah, finally, an offer we can agree on.’

He sat forward. ‘We are not agreeing.’

Louis smirked. ‘I see, you do not wish my troops would show you the true meaning of war, then?’

‘You mean  _ ‘defeat’ _ ,’ William said bluntly, leaning closer. ‘Or ‘ _ cowardice’ _ . You will leave with your tail between your legs.’

‘Strange. I remember telling you something very similar, not that long ago, in a convent.’

‘You were wrong. Challenge me, Louis, and you will fail.’

‘Will I?’ Louis rested his elbow on the right chair arm, close enough to William that their arms brushed against each other lightly. 

‘Yes.’  His voice was clipped, trying to strike fear into his enemy. The prominence of his pout rendered any attack ineffective. If William was as bad at warfare as he was at being denied, Louis would destroy him in a matter of minutes.

It was almost endearing how quickly he had lost control of his emotions. And, although he tried not think about it, Louis could not help but remember their first meeting in the convent. And the meetings that had followed.

_ Endearing.  _ That was another dangerous word. 

William’s sulking was not  _ endearing.  _ It was foolish, improper, and ridiculous. They would achieve nothing through sulking. They were, in truth, unlikely to achieve anything at all. Not tonight. Not ever. They were too different to ever agree, too similar to play their usual mind tricks. Louis sighed. William hummed in response. It was probably the closest they would get to an agreement. 

Partly to prove the point, and partly to distract himself the intensity of William’s gaze - clearly perturbed but still unrelenting -  Louis smirked. ‘Maastricht.’

William smiled ever-so-slightly.  A twitch of the lips. A hum. This man did everything in the most minuscule of gestures. And yet, his confidence was unwavering. ‘Rouen.’

‘No.’

‘Then no.’

Louis breathed another sigh, trying to suppress his own irritation. He would look the fool if he mocked William for sulking and then did the same. And that was one thing the King of France would never do, especially not in front of the Prince of Orange. A tense silence settled over them. Louis shifted in his seat. A moment passed. Then another.  An uncharacteristic uneasiness pooled in the pit of his stomach. Feeling William’s eyes bore into him, he stared back at him, seemingly unflinching, but secretly wishing that he could create space between them. This was redundant. Neither of them were going to be the first to back down. Experience told Louis that they could have spent the entire night sat like this,  silent, unmoving, their eyes locked in a challenge that neither was willing to lose.

Louis did not know if he had the patience for that tonight. His nerves were already wrought, his temper already simmering. If they wanted to continue their time together, their negotiation, the tension had to be broke. Louis stirred with the intention of rising. But William - as William always did - had different ideas. Before Louis could stand, William caught him by the arm. William’s grip was tight, nipping at the skin beneath his clothing, and holding him in the chair. Louis thought about struggling against him, but William yanked on his arm again, pulling him close; his face was a mere inch away, blue eyes blinking back at him, and then, his lips were on Louis’s.

He tasted like the wine they had drunk with dinner. Rich and sour. And to his surprise, Louis did not immediately pull back. He would be lying to himself if he said he had not wondered what it would be like to kiss William. Not seriously - of course not, one did  _ not _ seriously think about  _ kissing  _ their enemies - but in that curious, fanciful way he occasionally wondered about what it would be like to kiss the Chevalier. Just to try it. Or a new girl at court, a waif of a thing, innocent and wide-eyed, and far too inexperienced to hold Louis’s interest for more than a moment. 

And yet somehow William, Louis realised as he felt the Prince’s hand creep up his arm, pulling him closer, could hold his interest. For a moment. A week. A month. A year. The depth of his interest was limitless - even if he did not truly understand exactly what that interest meant. He found he did not care to dwell on it.  All thoughts of Maastricht had left his mind. He yanked his arm free, and reached for William’s hand, instinctively trying to deepen the kiss.

But, just as quickly as it came, the moment was gone. William pulled back, breathing heavily, despite the briefness of their kiss. He sat back in his chair. Louis blinked at him. His body told him to lean across the chair arms, to close the space between them again and capture William’s lips with his own. If only to surprise him as much as he had surprised Louis. But he suppressed the urge, clinging to some sense of regal composure. If showing emotion was diplomatic failure, and sulking was foolishness, chasing after William’s unexpected sexual advances was nothing less than suicide.

‘Is...was that your...attempt to sway the negotiation?’ Louis accused after a moment, voice tight in an attempt to disguise how unsettled - and frankly,  _ cheated _ \- he felt.  ‘Believe me, it will take much more than a...a kiss to change my mind. I-'

William, who had been blankly staring at the wall, snapped. ‘Oh, be quiet!’ 

There was a pause. Louis realised that, despite the relative distance between them, they were still holding hands. Louis forcefully untangled their fingers. His chair wobbled slightly on its legs as he stood up, finally creating that much-needed space.

‘I think you should remember who you are talking to!’ Louis seethed in reply, finally giving way to the pettiness they both knew he was capable of.  _ Strange _ , he thought,  _ that this is the thing that tips it. _ But, then, he had never reacted well to temptation. Or denial.

William was silent.

He continued. ‘This is my Palace. I make the rules, including whether or not you live to see the dawn.’

Anyone else would have flinched. William merely scoffed. It was a reaction Louis was far too used to seeing from Philippe and the gesture was associated with a familiarity he had not expected from his sworn enemy. It was almost as worrying as enjoying his wit.  He should have known better. William clearly did not.

‘I have not forgotten that fact, thank you, Louis.’

Anger and disgruntlement seized him again. ‘Do not presume to be so familiar with me. You are a guest here and an unwanted one at best-’

‘Yes,  you have said, many times,’ William replied sharply. ‘If you want me to leave, simply order it.’

Louis hesitated. He did not have a reply for that. Mostly because he did not really want William to leave. After all, their...negotiation was not finished.

William clearly had a similar thought. ‘To answer your question, your Majesty,’ he said, propping his elbow up on the chair arm again and resting his cheek in his hand.‘I...I...did not...kiss you to sway the negotiation in my favour. I...do not make a…habit of mixing business with...pleasure.’

_ Pleasure _ . The word came out strained and uncharacteristically awkward. William - like Louis - was usually so smooth with his words, and Louis began to wonder if he had had any experience with romantic affairs before.

Not that this was a romantic affair. It was simply...negotiation. A tactical, official, non-pleasurable negotiation.

And yet, the words left Louis’s mouth before he could stop them. ‘No, me neither.’

William did not reply. There was a new weight to the silence that drifted between them now. Louis’s anger had faded, but the absence only made way for confusion. William’s words rang in his mind.  _ Business. With. Pleasure. _ He had not been trying to win favour. It had not been a part of the negotiation. William had kissed him...simply because he thought kissing him was  _ pleasurable?  _ Or had wondered if it would be, at least. He, it seemed, had shared Louis’s curious thoughts. But when did he not? Even when they disagreed, they could predict what the other was thinking before the thought was even given breath. Louis had learnt to read William’s body in the same way he had learnt to understand his hums. A flicker of his lashes was a taunt, the quirk of an eyebrow was a sign of amusement, and the tilt of the head gave away his moments of confusion. Louis had entered their negotiation hoping for a battle of words, but there was no need for them. He could decipher William’s deepest desires simply by studying the - endearing -  way his lips formed a pout.

Louis bit his own lip. Uneasiness grasped at him again. He did not like it. Kings’ did not feel uneasy. Not in front of their enemies. Not when said enemy had just...kissed them. And it had been, he admitted with a grimace, pleasurable.  _ Pleasurable. Enjoyable. Endearing. _

The Holy Trinity of forbidden words. Louis was determined to forget them all.

‘Why Rouen?’ he asked after a moment, attempting to clear the air.

William turned to look at him, eyes surprisingly hesitant. William had never shied away from his gaze. One brief kiss should not be enough to change that. Perhaps his confidence was not as unwavering as Louis had first believed. The thought gave him more joy than it should have.

Louis repeated his question.

‘It is populous,’ William replied. ‘And is prominent in trade.’

‘I see. You seem to know a lot about my lands.’

William shrugged. ‘I would be a fool if I did not. And...why are  _ still  _ so set on Maastricht? I have made myself quite clear.’

‘Yes, you have.’ Louis tried to hold his composure, but he felt himself smirk. He closed the space between them again, leaning against his chair. ‘Shall I answer truthfully?’

‘If you so wish.

‘I...I knew it would irritate you.’

William’s jaw tensed, eyes narrowing as he battled with his emotions. His voice was tight with suppressed anger. ‘You have persistently asked for the same town, despite knowing I would never surrender it to you because it  _ irritates  _ me?’ 

Louis could only nod.

William’s disbelief increased. He sat forward, then sank back again, folding his arms over his chest with a scoff. Louis studied him with more interest than he should have. He was doing - and thinking - a lot more than he should have.

But William was pouting again. ‘You are the juvenile one, Louis. Not I.’

Louis still begged to differ, but - for once - he kept his mouth shut, moving to stand at William’s side. ‘I think,’ he said after a few moments, ‘we are done with our negotiations tonight.’

William grumbled something Louis did not catch, then sighed, and added. ‘I suppose you are right. Our business is done for now.’

‘Our business...yes…’

William blinked back at him, emotionless. Louis supposed he was too busy sulking about his failed negotiation and wounded pride to care. He shifted in his seat. ‘I will show myself out, shall I?’

Louis smiled, suddenly enthralled with the idea of payback. He wanted to see the surprise in William’s eyes, to startled him as much as he had Louis. He rested his weight against William’s chair and bent down, capturing William’s lips in another kiss. It was quicker than the last one had been, and Louis was both intrigued and gratified when William whined at its briefness, instantly stretching up in search of more. 

‘And,’ Louis murmured, unable to contain his smirk, ‘what of our pleasure?’

‘I...do believe that is yours to practice as you please.’ He was still pouting, though whether or not it was because of their conversation or because he had been denied a deeper kiss, Louis did not know. 

He suspected it was a combination of both. And, really, he could not blame him. He would have been the same. Still, teasing him was far too enjoyable to deny.  _ Enjoyable. _ Perhaps it was a good word after all. ‘You are sulking again, William. It is most unbecoming.’

That was a lie.

‘I am not.’

‘You are. Shall I fetch you a looking glass? You can see for yourself..’

‘Forget that,’ William said, his tone suddenly sharp again. ‘If you were less concerned with proving you are right, and more concerned with stopping me, we might get somewhere.’

‘Stopping you?’ He raised an eyebrow, inching closer. ‘From defeating me? Or from sulking? How?’

William straightened his spine, tilting his head in that cocky way Louis had grown to admire. ‘By kissing me, of course.’

Louis chuckled ‘Ah...of course.’

Before he could think to move, William’s hands were reaching for him, pulling him back down. If the first kiss had been forceful, and the second had been brief, the third was desperate. William grasped fistfuls of Louis’s clothing, forcing him as close as their position, and the positioning of the chair - the chair with arms - would allow. And Louis let him, reaching out to tangle his own hands in William’s hair.

Suddenly, William pulled back. His chest was heaving with shallow breaths, but there was a look of triumph in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. Louis tried to counter it with a frown, in his equally breathless, and somewhat dishevelled state, he could only manage an uncertain smile.

William’s smirk grew. ‘Well, now I am in a far more favourable mood, I was thinking we could discuss Rouen. I will give your men two weeks to remove all necessities and then-’

Louis cut him off with another kiss. The forth was lingering. 

 


End file.
